Page 8 of Finally Home

Ollie leans against the doorjamb. “Clearly, you’ve been around all the wrong damn men, because my parents taught me exactly how to treat a woman, and opening doors for them is definitely at the top of the list.” He leans in closer, and I’m consumed by his scent. Does he always smell like that? Is it cologne or bodywash? “Stick with me, baby, and I’ll show you the world.”

He taps the end of my nose with his finger and winks before shutting my door and jogging around to the driver’s side. After buckling his seat belt and starting the vehicle, he holds his phone out. “Here, why don’t you enter the address?”

I’m in the middle of entering the hotel address when the Bluetooth must connect to the jeep because suddenly “The Call” by Backstreet Boys blasts through the speakers.

Ollie’s eyes widen as he quickly turns the volume down so we can barely hear the song. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I was jamming earlier.”

“It’s no problem at all,” I say as I finish entering the address and hand his phone back to him. “I was team Backstreet Boys, but I thinkMillenniumwas a better album thanBlack and Blue.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you were Team BSB and not Team NSYNC, otherwise I’d say this weekend is over before it even started.” He laughs. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” Ollie puts the jeep in reverse, and even though he has a backup camera on the dashboard, he presses his right arm into my seat and twists his body as we leave the driveway. But you won’t hear me complaining because at this angle, I get a closer look at his arms flexing. His knowing smirk tells me he caught me staring as he pulls on the road.

Silence fills the air between us for the first ten minutes of the drive. Maybe after seeing me again, he realized this wasn’t a good idea, and he’s regretting it. This is going to be an awkward-as-hell three-hour ride and even longer weekend, if this is the case.

When we approach a red light, Oliver places his hand on my thigh, causing me to jump. “Hey, relax,” he soothes.

“I’m sorry,” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“You should probably stop apologizing,” he chuckles. “Where’s your head at right now?”

“A million different places.” This time, I laugh. “I guess I’m just nervous about us pulling this off. What if they see through us the moment we arrive?”

Oliver grabs my hand and links our fingers together. My buzzing skin from earlier returns, only this time for a different reason. He brings our clasped hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss to my knuckles.

“It’s all going to be okay. I promise.” Disappointment floods my veins when he releases my hand and focuses back on the road as we head out of Elmhurst.

“So, what did you think of our town?”

“It’s super cute, and I’m happy that I stopped here. I did a little exploring around town and snapped some photos of the area.”

“Is that what you do?” His question hits me, and my anxiety spikes yet again. I don’t think the three hours we have before arriving are enough time to get to know the basics about each other to successfully pull this off.

At this rate, I may just enter full-blown panic before we even hit the highway.

“Yeah, I’m a photographer. You’re looking at the owner and operator of Wanderlust Photography.”

He smiles. “Impressive. I like the name. It’s very fitting for what you’ve told me.”

“Okay, so I was thinking maybe we should spend the drive getting to know each other. Maybe that will settle my nerves a bit about all this.”

“Alright. Makes sense to me. Hit me with your questions.”

I clap my hands together and reach down to retrieve my phone from my bag. Pulling up the notes app on my phone, I kick my shoes off and bring my legs up under me, getting comfortable for the long drive.

Ollie’s laughter pulls my attention from my phone. “Are those questions on your phone? What is this, a job interview?” He tries to peek more at my phone while also paying attention to the road. I turn my screen more and more away from him.

“No, of course not. I just wanted to cover all my bases, I guess. So I just jotted down a few things. I just wanted to make sure it’s believable that we’ve known each other for more than just a few days.”

“I mean, I get it. But I also think that if someone is asking us our favorite color or favorite movie, then I feel like we’re definitely hanging around the wrong people and not just attending an engagement party. I feel like there should be more focus on the bride and groom. Which speaking of—what are their names?”

“My brother is Topher, and his fiancée is Scarlett.”

“I’m sorry. Topher? Are you serious?” I can’t help but join in his laughter. I always hated my name Holland, but at least it wasn’t my brother’s name.Thank God.

“Unfortunately, I am. But want to know what’s worse?”

“Oh, please, I’m not sure there could be anything worse.”

“My brother is actually a third.” My father always told my brother he should feel proud to have the Topher Armstrong name. But how could you actually give a child a name with not only one body part listed but two?

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